


incongruence

by peppersnot



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Casual Sex, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 16:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14336589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppersnot/pseuds/peppersnot
Summary: It’s stupid and ironic, then, he thinks, that he of all people would be the one allowed into this bubble Izaya has set up for himself.





	incongruence

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing shizaya, I'm still worried about how it turned out but yeah, anyway. I hope you like it! I'd die for both of them.

Izaya is sleeping in his bed.

Shizuo stands in the doorway to Izaya’s unnecessarily large bedroom, taking in the telltale, steady, rise and fall of his chest and the fact that he’s wearing neither clothes nor blankets, and it’s such an odd sight to see that Shizuo is unsure of whether or not he’s allowed to cross over into the room right now.

Shizuo has never seen Izaya sleep – he is always awake when Shizuo doses off and always awake when he comes to, and even though Shizuo has seen him let his guard down, at least during their nightly truce, it’s never been this wide open before.

Izaya is a private person, he knows that, although he suspects it has less to do with privacy and more to do with vulnerability – which Shizuo understands really, because he knows the feeling; though vulnerability for him is against his own self while Izaya stands as one against the enemy that is the world. Shizuo respects that, really.

So he doesn’t say anything when Izaya steps into the shower immediately after they’re done, doesn’t say anything when he kicks Shizuo out or leaves right after, depending on whose apartment they’re at, doesn’t say a word when Izaya clams up in the middle of a snarky comment while they’re in bed.

Izaya likes his space and Shizuo’s already that exception, so he’s not going to push further.

It’s not even like he _wants_ to push further, because he’s not going to get anything out of it – he doesn’t want to care about someone who couldn’t give a single fuck in return, and definitely doesn’t want to get attached to someone who would take the first opportunity to kill him. He’s surprised their truce lasted as long as it did – as it was, he’d expected to be dead sometime around three weeks ago.

So the sight of this: Izaya lying naked in bed, not even having showered yet, not having told Shizuo to get the fuck out even though it’s been a while; Izaya _sleeping_ – it all feels so private Shizuo lingers in the space outside the bedroom for a moment before deciding he’s probably not wanted there anyway.

If he goes in and Izaya wakes up, he will tell Shizuo to leave, and it’s too late and he’s too tired to go all the way back home to Ikebukuro. Instead, he takes in the sight of Izaya’s sleeping face from where he’s standing. He’s too far away to notice the details but he can see relaxation in that face; there’s no sign of the tension and caution that usually covers Izaya’s features, and it gives Shizuo a strange feeling.

He chooses to wander around the apartment instead, scoffing at the ‘minimalist aesthetic’ Izaya so prides himself on. Shizuo thinks it’s just another attempt at keeping the world at a distance. Having attachments would give him something to lose; thinking of this place as a ‘home’ would mean if he ever had to leave, it’d be difficult. Leaving traces of himself around the would backfire on him if someone were to get their hands on them.

It’s stupid and ironic, then, he thinks, that _he_ of all people would be the one allowed into this bubble Izaya has set up for himself. That he gets glimpses of the things Izaya holds close, even if he would never admit to himself that he does, that he gets to hear Izaya say ‘I’m going home’ instead of ‘I’m going back’, that the remnants of whatever the fuck they have between them are allowed to linger longer than any of the material possessions Shizuo has ever seen in Izaya’s pathetic excuse of a home.

_What’s the point of all this space if you don’t even feel comfortable in it, stupid flea?_

He heads to the living room – the only space in the entire apartment where he’s allowed to smoke – and sits himself on the uncomfortable couch, grumbling about the lack of cushions and the hardness of the couch itself. It’s a stupid couch that’s more like a slightly soft table than anything – it’s just like Izaya’s bed, which Shizuo cannot bring himself to sleep in, even if Izaya didn’t let him stay long enough to try.

He thinks that might also have something to do with Izaya’s desperation to keep the world away. He knows Izaya has insomnia, that he’s a light sleeper and that the shadows under his eyes have nothing to do with the fact that he stays up so many nights to work, but more about the fact that he chooses to stay up, because sleeping makes him vulnerable, sleeping is dangerous and so he should never be allowed to be comfortable enough to sleep deep enough to let his guard down.

It makes it all the more strange, that Izaya is sleeping in his room now, while _Shizuo_ roams the hallways of his apartment, and that Izaya _knows_ he’s there.

It’s funny, he thinks, as he sits there in the dark and looks around the living room, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through Izaya’s massive windows, that everything about Izaya is so apparent in the way he lives, in the way he moves, in the way he speaks, and yet, it’s all an attempt at trying to keep it hidden.

He wonders if Izaya knows.

He is on his second cigarette when he hears the bathroom door open, even though the apartment is supposed to be mostly soundproof. He hears the shower run for a while and then stop, followed by a few moments of silence before Izaya’s footsteps come towards the living room and he stands there, just watching Shizuo smoke.

Shizuo doesn’t bother turning to look at him.

For a few moments, there is dead silence. Izaya doesn’t keep clocks because the ticking drives him nuts, so there is no sound in the room save for their breathing and the faint sounds of the traffic on the streets below – and then Izaya moves, padding his way across the wooden floor to sit down on the couch next to Shizuo, to pull his feet up and lay his head on Shizuo’s thigh and Shizuo opens his mouth to tell him to get the fuck off but the words that come out are entirely different.

“You’re awake?”

Izaya hums. His mouth is brushing against the bare skin exposed by Shizuo’s shorts, and Shizuo feels the sound more than hears it, feels Izaya’s lips moving as he murmurs a “yeah”.

He’s wearing an old T-shirt Shizuo is sure was once his, because of how big it looks on him, and Shizuo’s eyes are drawn to the exposed skin at Izaya’s neck. He’s surprised to find his hand is already there, rubbing circles against it, moving up slowly to run through Izaya’s hair. It’s soft to touch.

He stares at Izaya in awe, wondering if he’s aware that Shizuo could just kill him now – could apply the slightest bit of pressure and be done with it, and it wouldn’t even be _hard_ ; wonders if Izaya is putting down his barriers on purpose or if it’s not a conscious action – as if the sex got to his head and clouded his thoughts and decisions and that he’d regret this later.

If there’s ever going to be a later.

“Will you do it?” Izaya’s voice is soft, but it startles Shizuo all the same, and then Izaya turns his head a bit so the hand that was in his hair is now against his face and he presses a kiss to Shizuo’s skin, as his eyes open up – wide open, in every sense of the word – and Shizuo can’t help but _stare_ , can’t help the feeling bubbling in his chest as he realizes this isn’t some post-coital mistake and that the gleam in Izaya’s eyes isn’t the _mischief_ he’s so used to – just the reflection of the moonlight. It’s almost _pure_.

Shizuo grunts in response to his question and Izaya’s lips drag up in a smile that is not a smirk or a sneer, but just a smile with an almost hint of sincerity that Shizuo doesn’t know what to do with. He places a hand over Izaya’s eyes, feeling his lashes brush against the palm of his hand as they close, and as he takes a drag of his cigarette, thinks addiction’s a bitch, and then realizes that he doesn’t know which one he’s referring to.


End file.
